


Work Song

by ScribbledGhost



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, If you hate storebought canon then homemade is fine, POV Third Person, character death (but it's not permanent)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-19 06:33:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29870589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScribbledGhost/pseuds/ScribbledGhost
Summary: "There were two very different worlds that he belonged to. There was the world of Agent Whiskey, filled with gunpowder and smoke and death waiting just around every corner. And there was the world of Jack Daniels, filled with light and affection and easy Sunday mornings spent next to his love."Inspired by "Work Song" by Hozier.
Relationships: Jack | Whiskey (Kingsman)/Reader, Jack | Whiskey (Kingsman)/You
Kudos: 5





	Work Song

There were two very different worlds that he belonged to. There was the world of Agent Whiskey, filled with gunpowder and smoke and death waiting just around every corner. And there was the world of Jack Daniels, filled with light and affection and easy Sunday mornings spent next to his love.

How many days had he worked on empty, struggling to drag himself the few more steps needed to finish his agency duties before he could go home to her? How many days had he faced the burning heat of another mission gone awry as he raced to the nearest safe house, his mind filled with thoughts of her as he silently promised her that he’d come home?

Jack was never one to shy away from how much he loved her. Not when he’d gone through so much to try and be the man she deserved. He loved the way he could still make her bashful, how he could shamelessly flirt with her and watch her toss him that sweet smile he always melted around. That smile and her kisses alone could give him toothaches.

When she’d first found him with his walls down, he was low. He’d come to her on a bender, not trusting anyone else to be able to care for him the way she could. He’d known her for some time, but that had been the first time he’d really allowed himself to be seen by her for who he truly was, as opposed to the brash, confident man he pretended to be.

No, when he’d stumbled to her door that night, he was anything but. His eyes were red-rimmed, his words nearly incoherent other than soft pleas for her. He was wildly drunk, and he had needed her. Not in a carnal way, no. Not this time. He simply had needed to be around her, needed her to take care of him in the ways he couldn’t care for himself.

He’d woke in her room, in her arms. His head pounding, his body cold, and his mind in a haze. As he’d stirred, she’d sat up, looking at him with concern as he still reached for her. She would tell him later that on top of a hangover, he’d managed to develop a fever, and had started talking in disjointed thoughts about how he didn’t care how much longer he lived. She’d nursed him back to health that day, tending to him and speaking to him in soft tones that often lulled him back into dreams of her.

She’d never asked what had prompted his drinking binge, had never asked about all the things he’d done. She had healed not just his body that day, but his mind as well.

In all the time she’d been with him since then, she never fret about what his hands and body had done. She never worried about his transgressions, never saw him as anything but Jack Daniels, even after he’d admitted to everything he’d done when he was in Agent Whiskey’s soul. She loved him, and no matter how many times he needed to hear it, she always told him without a second thought.

Sometimes Jack thought about how he would come home from missions late at night, exhausted and needing her once more, though in a different way than he had on that first night. He would turn on their bedside lamp, letting the low light dance over their skin as he kissed her. In times like these, she would always lay him down soft and sweet, taking his worries and converting them into offerings at the shrine of her.

Whatever higher power existed in the universe may not forgive him for what he’d done, but she would. And that was more than enough for him. She was his, and he was hers in body, mind, and soul. No matter how many sins he’d committed in the previous days or weeks as Agent Whiskey, when he returned home to her as Jack Daniels, heaven and hell were simply words to him.

All these thoughts of her and more flooded his mind as he woke on the cold, tile floor in the middle of the night in a place he did not remember. He caught glimpses of his memory, flashes of thoughts, but nothing concrete. It wasn’t until he surveyed his surroundings and settled his gaze on an industrial-sized meat grinder that it came flooding back to him - the head injury, the vague thoughts of revenge that he didn’t understand now, the fight.

His death.

He had died; Jack was sure of it. But he wasn’t dead now.

He’d always thought that when his time came that he’d be laid to rest in the cold, dark earth. But that hadn’t happened. He couldn’t begin to explain it, but despite the situation, he was not dead.

Jack’s thoughts turned back to her, and he slowly pulled himself off of the floor, walking towards the outside world in a disoriented haze. However he’d come back made no difference to him now, all that mattered to him was getting back to her.

The multitude of hours following his departure from that place went by in a haze. He traversed through thick jungle, hitched rides with strangers, somehow managed to find an airport, and had gone back to the States. His mind wasn’t clear; not yet. Any time he tried to think about logic and reality and anything else concrete, his thoughts always wrenched themselves back to her. She was waiting for him.

Then, when he finally knocked on the front door of his home and watched it swing open to reveal her face, his mind cleared. He held her in his arms, and she held him in return, and the rest of the world faded away.

In the coming days, he would realize that in reality, Agent Whiskey _had_ died that day. Agent Whiskey had died, and that had left only Jack Daniels alive. He would look at his darling and know that the Agent Whiskey that had trudged through his days singing his work song of her was dead, and that the Jack Daniels that loved her had lived. He would realize that he would always come home to her, no matter what obstacles stood in his way.

No grave could hold his body down while she was waiting for him. He’d crawl home to her on his hands and knees from half a world away if he needed to.

**Author's Note:**

> This was created for Din-Damn-Djarin's Song Prompt Writing Challenge on Tumblr! I love Hozier, so I knew I had to write something for Whiskey with Work Song.


End file.
